Because of You
by Amorye
Summary: Looking back into Ingrid's childhood, we see her. Hiding, crying. She was scared, and she grew up that way. She grew, afraid of everything. Angst, and OOCness.


**Because of You**

SUMMARY: Looking back into Ingrid's childhood, we see her. Hiding, crying. She was scared, and she grew up that way. She grew, afraid of everything.

A/Ns: Uh, this idea just popped into my head. I've always wondered why Ingrid spent a lot of her time before as a delinquent, and what happened to her mom.

Now, it's raining on a summer day, since too much rain's been evaporated, and I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson's song, Because of You, thus the title, and I finished reading The Five People You Meet in Heaven. A wonderful read, but let's not divert our attention, all right? Okay. LOL. So everything I mentioned previously put me in a sentimental mood. Be warned, this fic is angsty. Hope no one cries.

I've just turned fourteen some weeks ago, and I make an angst fic? I'm weird.

DISCLAIMER: Fillmore! and all related aspects are under the ownership of Disney, and I will never come close to owning it, for if I did, the show would still be on by now. All characters, places, and events in the story that are not included in the show belong to me, and any similarity to any persons, dead or alive; events, and places are mere coincidences and not intended. I am not responsible for users that read inappropriate content, as the ratings and warnings have been given to indicate what content is within the fanfic.

Kelly Clarkson owns the song, a'ight? I do not intend copyright infringement, as I am only using the lyrics to add to the fic's mood.

* * *

_I will not make the same mistakes that you did.  
I will not let myself,  
Cause my heart so much misery._

A young girl of eight years, was curled up in a corner, hugging her knees, and sobbing.

Beautiful, her father always said she was. She was, in many ways, like her mother. She took her mother's flawless white skin, and her sparkling, almost enchanting, jade eyes. She took her father's thick, jet-black hair that smoothly cascaded down her slender shoulders.

But now, she was a wreck, her emerald eyes without even as much as a hint of a glimmer, all puffy and red, as she saw her father and mother, once again, shouting and shoving each other as if they were opposing countries in a war. Why they were fighting, she didn't know, and didn't have the heart to ask.

She was supposed to be a happy, joy-loving, carefree young individual, but she wasn't. She was more mature than other children her age.

Because of this.

_I will not break the way you did,  
You fell so hard,  
I've learned the hard way,  
To never let it get that far._

Her parents filed for divorce three months after the fight that sent her mother packing. Her mother was given custody of her, and her father given custody of her sister, Ariella. Both girls were very close to each other, despite their age difference of four years.

She had come up to her sister's room that night to say goodbye. She had never felt so broken her whole life to be leaving her sister, her closest friend, and not see her again until everything would be right. But she was sure things would never be right.

"Ariella." she said, her voice quivering.

Her twelve-year-old sister was seated on the bed, holding a picture frame. Her eyes were even redder than hers.

People often compared the two girls. They always said Ingrid was the prettier one, the smarter one. Ariella was hurt at first, but she accepted it, because even though Ingrid had some better qualities, Ingrid said that the two of them would always be equal with each other.

Ingrid loved her very much, and they both cared for each other no matter what happened. They were always supportive of one another. They barely fought. They were inseparable.

"Ingrid." she said, putting down the picture frame. She wiped her eyes with a tissue, and patted the bed space next to her. Ingrid went over and sat down.

"I really wish this wasn't happening..." said Ingrid, who took the picture frame that Ariella was looking at.

It was the one they took at their vacation to California just months ago. Ingrid couldn't recall another time when she last saw her parents as happy as they looked in the photograph.

"Me too." mumbled Ariella. "I wish that they never fought. Everything was perfect, until dad got drunk at that party and had sex with that stupid bitch he's been courting for months already!"

Ingrid didn't understand what Ariella said, but she knew it was bad. "Yeah..." she said, running her finger over the frame.

"Sorry, sis. But I really... just couldn't help it." she sighed.

"Keep the photograph. I want you to keep it." Ariella said, patting her little sister's hand.

"Why?" asked Ingrid, whose expression was a mix of sadness, surprise, and confusion. "It's yours."

"Ingrid, I want you to have good memories. I want you to keep it so you would have reminders of what it was like... when everything was perfect."

Ingrid burst into tears, and hugged her sister tightly. Ariella started crying too, and hugged her sister back.

"We'll see each other again. Don't worry."

_I lose my way,  
And it's not too long before you point it out.  
I cannot cry,  
Because you know there's weakness in your eyes._

Every day, Ingrid would see that photograph on her bedside. Every morning, upon waking up, she'd tell herself that everything would be all right, even if it wouldn't.

Her mother tried to make her forget everything that's happened. She remained casual every time she was reminded of her father, and would even tell Ingrid of all the good times they had shared. She was smiling on the outside, but on the inside, she was dying.

Ingrid knew.

_I'm forced to fake,  
A smile, a laugh everyday of my life.  
My heart can't possibly break,  
When it wasn't even whole to start with._

Ingrid always called her sister. Her father sometimes answered, and told her that he missed her too. She and Ariella always spent a minimum of thirty minutes talking until their parents would break up their calls.

Ingrid was sent to an exclusive girls' private school. Her mother wanted the best for her, and sure enough, that's what she got. Guidance counselors kept asking her if she was all right, and she always answered a yes, even though she really wasn't. She was crying on the inside, smiling and laughing on the outside, like her mother.

She was glad she was sent to a girls-only school, because she was afraid to be friends with boys. As young as she was, she knew that love was painful. Her mother was a living example.

At school, she was insanely shy and very self-kept. The other girls at school liked her and knew her as "shy and beautiful Ingrid." But they never talked to her, because she usually just smiled shyly and snuck away. Even the older, snobbier, and more popular girls would invite her to their table and try to become more understanding, but only one girl got through, who bore a distinct similarity in attitude to Ariella.

Jodine was an eighth grader, and treated Ingrid as she would her sister. But she never had one. She was one of the most popular students, and she easily fell under that category, with her feisty red hair, sparkling lilac eyes that Ingrid found to be the most interesting ever, and her perfect, fair complexion. She had an outgoing personality and she was very nice. She was different from the other girls like her, because she never dissed anyone. And she wasn't afraid to do anything.

She talked to Ingrid about everything. And when Ingrid was upset, she comforted her, symphatized with her, and gave her plenty of advice that Ingrid had committed to heart.

"Never let anything bring you down." was her favorite. It helped her stay strong.

_I watched you die,  
I heard you cry every night in your sleep.  
I was so young,  
You should have known better than to lean on me._

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Jodine had to leave for Australia when Ingrid had entered the fifth grade. Jodine gave her an amethyst that she dug up herself, when her father had taken her to a mine one day.

"You keep it. It's my good luck charm." she said, placing the gemstone in her hand. "But it's yours now. It'll remind you of me, and I hope it'll bring you good luck too."

Ingrid embraced her friend.

Nights were sometimes unbearable for Ingrid. She would hear her mother's cries, and knew she was thinking about her father. Deep down, she still loved him. She wanted to go back. But it was too late. They had separated, and the damage was done.

How she longed for those nights when she'd see her husband. She missed his sweet messages, saying he missed her when he was away on a trip, saying he would bring back something for her and the girls, when he'd kiss her and make love to her.

Some nights, she just couldn't sleep. Ingrid would hear her drinking, and sometimes she smelled the smoke from the cigarettes she smoked. Ingrid cried whenever she heard or smelled it. It meant her mother was upset again.

_You never thought of anyone else,  
You just saw your pain.  
And now I cry in the middle of the night,  
For the same damn thing._

A year passed, and things were just as it always was. Except, her mother looked like she was getting older and older and older by the months. She drank too much and smoked excessively, and she sometimes saw sleeping pills next to her mother's bedside.

She threw a bottle of sleeping pills into the trash, and she was reprimanded by her mother.

"Have you ever thought of my pain? Do you know how much it hurts to see you and hear you crying and killing yourself over dad?" she sobbed. "Have you ever felt how it was like, to see your parents fighting in front of you? Don't you know how it feels to watch your whole family tear apart because of a fight?"

She stormed out of the bathroom, crying. She slammed the door to her bedroom, and refused to come out for dinner.

Why was life so cruel to her?

_Because of you,  
I never stray too far from the sidewalk..._

One morning, during English class, a grim-looking Principal Reynolds came into her classroom, and called for her. Confused, she stood up, and followed the principal into her office. She saw that a guidance counselor and a chauffeur were inside.

She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could let a sound escape her mouth, the principal said,

"Ingrid, you know your mother drinks right?" she asked.

Ingrid nodded. Why was she asking this? Did something happen to her mom?

The lady sighed. "Something happened, after your mother dropped you off to school. You see, what happened was, she was raped. And she was drunk. She drove without wearing a thing, and she still had a headache from all the alcohol. And a speeding truck hit her car when she was driving, because she couldn't see the stoplight. She didn't make it."

It took Ingrid a whole tense minute to comprehend what happened.

Her mother was dead.

She fled the room, into the cold, beating, heavy, rain.

She kept running, further and further away, following the sidewalk she was familiar with, and she collapsed in front of her house. She cried, and curled into a helpless fetal position, cursing and screaming, the rain drowning out her cries.

Life was good? Then why was hers filled with misery and sorrow?

_Because of you,  
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt._

Close friends and family members attended the funeral. For the first time in her life, she wore an outfit of entirely black. And she liked it.

When she saw her mother in the casket, she suddenly envied her. She looked so quiet, peaceful, serene. It's as if her face had been washed of all the pain and suffering she had been experiencing those past years, even though the large gashes on her forehead were there.

She suddenly felt a surge of power come through her body, as if she had grown several inches in a matter of seconds, and her soft, green eyes suddenly turned sharp and glinted with determination.

This was not going to be her undoing.

_Because of you,  
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me._

She moved back in with her father. She had to attend a co-ed public school. Goddamnit. She was not going to like this.

One autumn afternoon, she was sent back home for suspension. She had pulled the fire alarm again, and it was the second major strike on her card. She had done so much more, too. Like talking back to her teachers, sneaking inside classrooms to steal pens or pencils since she was missing them, skipping classes, smuggling alcohol into campus, and more.

She earned major street cred with all the rebels.

And she cut her long hair short, and wore black every day.

Eventually, she wanted out. She had managed to cut off electricity and water supply from the school. She was immediately expelled.

He father sighed at hearing the news.

"Don't you trust anyone but yourself, Ingrid?" he asked. "Let it go! Why are you hanging on to the past? Don't you want to turn over a new leaf?"

"Dad... I..."

He cut her off as sharply as a sharpened blade cut through butter.

"Ingrid. You can destroy your life all you want. But when you want to change it, come to me."

She did.

_Because of you,  
I am afraid._

Ingrid had been sent to another school. The school was the best her father knew of, and he sent her there, hoping that she would indeed change.

She did. After working with a boy at school to solve a stink bomb case, she had become a fighter for justice now. She joined the school's safety patrol, and eventually became one of the force's best. She fixed her life.

Her father couldn't have been prouder.

And there, she met new friends. True friends. Good friends. People that understood her. And everyone was pretty awesome too. Karen was pretty and approachable, she was also good at what she did. O'Farrell was hilarious, Fillmore was the closest friend she had in the school, and Vallejo was just fun to mess with.

But Anza. He was the most handsome boy she had ever laid her eyes on. He had perfect, pale skin, a lean, muscular build, and haunting ice blue eyes. His hair was slightly bluish when bright light hit it, but in normal light, it was black. Most girls described him as smooth. And he was.

And he was sweet. But very shy. His picture was pasted all over the insides of girls' lockers and some gays' lockers, but he was completely oblivious to it. He went on with life as it was. Ingrid wished she could be like him.

But she was afraid of heartbreak.

_Because of you,  
I never stray too far from the sidewalk.  
Because of you,  
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt._

She and Joseph were good friends, and she usually felt jealous when he was talking to other girls. She usually found a reason to drag him away. When she was walking with him, she usually tried to think of things to say to him... how to say she loved him, but she was just... scared.

Usually, Joseph would talk to her, but she'd usually be all spacey.

"Hey, you okay, baby girl?" he'd ask.

She'd blush whenever he called her that. She smiled, and would say, "Yeah."

She loved the sound of his voice. So relaxing, sweet, and pleasant.

"So... I was wondering. D'you want to hang out one day?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "I'd love to."

He took her hand in his, causing a shiver to run up Ingrid's arm.

"Great." he said.

Maybe she could make an exception for Joseph.

_Because of you,  
I try my hardest just to forget everything.  
Because of you,  
I don't know how to let anyone else in._

Red liquid spilled out of the cut on her wrist. She positioned the blade next to the fresh cut, and pushed the blade in, and slid it. She ignored the stinging pain. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and she droppped the blade.

Joseph didn't know she cut herself. He'd been suspicious of her wristbands, but she always said that she had a painful wrist. He'd raise his eyebrow, and just nod.

Everyone else was suspicious about her wristbands, but she'd just smile and say that her wrists got sprained.

Her life was falling into the right places, but she was stressed with her life. She was pressured to finish patrol work, pass her neverending list of requirements, and maintain her relationships.

Ariella knocked on her bathroom door.

"Ingrid? Joseph's here for you."

"I'll be right out." she replied.

"I'll let him in the room." her sister said, and she heard the bedroom door close.

Ingrid dried her tears and bandaged her cuts. She covered them up and she put the black exercise bands on them. She washed her face. In a short while, she looked normal enough to not arouse suspicion of her crying. She applied light powder, just to be sure.

She heard the door open. Probably Joseph entered already. She cleaned up some of the blood that dripped, and went out of the bathroom.

"Hey, baby girl." he said, smiling.

"Hey, sweetie." she said, kissing Joseph on his lips. He kissed her back. He tasted like peppermint.

His hands touched hers, and he stopped right on her cuts.

"Ingrid, please, tell me... what's going on? Are you okay? Please don't hurt yourself." he said, stroking her hair. Her eyes filled with tears. Joseph was no idiot. At that moment, he already knew that she was cutting.

He gently pulled off the bands, and sure enough, freshly bandaged cuts were underneath.

All Ingrid could do was cry in Joseph's arms, who just held her firmly, yet gently.

_Because of you,  
I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty.  
Because of you,  
I am afraid._

"So you've never told anyone about how bad you really felt?"

"I don't tell, I show." mumbled Ingrid. "My appearance, the cuts, the starvation..."

Joseph raised his right eyebrow. "Starvation? Ingrid, I've told you, again and again... please don't starve yourself. You become too pale and too thin, and... too weak. Vallejo's been begging me to tell you to eat. You have to. You've been paling a lot already..."

"It's my habit. I can't help it."

"You know what? I'm going to monitor your food from now on. We'll start it off with salad, since I'm sure you'd prefer a light meal."

"Thanks, Joe... but---"

Joseph cut her off quickly. "But nothing. You know, all I want is the best for you. Please stop pushing me away. I'm trying to help you, trying to make your life now better than those four agonizing years. I... sometimes feel I don't know you." said Joseph, who said the last sentence quietly and hesitantly, as if he felt like he shouldn't have said that.

"I think I need to go." he said, standing up. "Bye." he said, kissing her on the cheek before going out.

And Ingrid realized the meaning of the statement when the door shut.

_Because of you,  
Because of you..._

"...she was a wonderful sister. She was sensitive and caring. She was loving. Mother was lucky to have someone as great as she was. I was also very fortunate to have her as a sister. Looking back, I remember the fondest memories of a child enjoying life, learning well, eventually growing into the beautiful young lady that she was.

There were many emotions she kept to herself, wanting to make sure she never worried others. Some saw through her like glass, while others needed to actually delve deeper into what she was actually feeling.

Those hidden emotions were tucked away too long, and where she hid them, it was too much for her to handle. She cracked under all those emotions, being the pressures of her life."

Somehow, Joseph had felt this was going to happen. But he never expected that he was the one to have cracked Ingrid to do such a thing. He didn't have the heart to go, no matter how much persuading he was given. He wanted to go, yet felt he couldn't. He'd wondered, too, if he'd done the right thing. Maybe it was best that he was alone with her, instead of being in a huge group.

The Safety Patrol was noticeably shaken, as they were losing heart in doing what they used to love.

Folsom had no say in it, as she knew how it was like. She'd experienced more than what everyone knew about. She knew how to be compassionate, even though she didn't really show it.

Even the weather seemed to go along with the dark, gloomy mood that came over him. It rained. Hard.

It was surely over now. He knew where she was. Karen told him. For once, she decided to loosen her hair and wear a black _dress. _She looked amazing, but she was too upset to care. He saw light traces of mascara on her face, obviously attempted to be wiped off.

He ran. Away from school. Classes weren't over, but Folsom had allowed him to go and visit.

He ran into the cold, hard rain, that felt like little daggers, digging deeper and deeper into his skin, with each drop that fell. It hurt, but he didn't care. His pain was nothing in comparison to Ingrid's lifetime pain. He could only hope she was much better.

He didn't run out of breath. The adrenaline that he felt completely overpowered his needs. All he wanted was to see her.

As he entered, he bought a rose from the little vendor outside. The vendor was old, and knew he wanted some time alone. They exchanged without a word.

He walked now, slowly, and he no longer felt the pain of the rain. At last, he saw her.

He laid the rose close to the stone. He took out a pocketknife and carved into it,

"143 Infinitely. You mean everything in the world to me. --J."

It was small, but that, he wanted her to know. He was hoping, that at least what he wrote on the stone would be in her heart too.

Goodbye was never easy, but he had to accept it. He had to move on. Ingrid never did. And he vowed that no one he knew would ever have to experience the same agony Ingrid went through. The hell she went through.

When she died, she didn't go to hell. She was released from it.

_**-END-**_


End file.
